


Plotting

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Drabble, Drama, Harry Potter Next Generation, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-17
Updated: 2008-12-17
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Perhaps it was an indication that she was working too hard





	Plotting

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** **Note:** [](http://somigliana.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://somigliana.livejournal.com/)**somigliana** mentioned this pairing, and I got inspired. Blame her! Just a quick drabble.

Hermione normally didn't judge people by their House sorting, but, at the moment, she couldn't believe that the hat had sorted Scorpius Malfoy into Ravenclaw. He was clever, certainly, but it was a cunning sort of intelligence that was coupled with an undeniable ambition. No, the hat had obviously been wrong. He should have been in Slytherin.

When she realized that she was staring, she looked at her desk and scowled. She hadn't said anything since she had realized that he was plotting. His questions were too particular, too tidy, too practiced. She was being ridiculous, of course. Her imagination was getting away from her, or perhaps it was an indication that she was working too hard.

After all, he had asked for a meeting so that he could find out more about one of her well-known former cases, so it was only logical that he'd have a list of questions prepared. She was overreacting. He was eighteen years old, and she was forty-five, so there was no way that she had seriously caught him looking down her robes when she'd been pouring the tea.

She looked up when she heard him clear his throat, saw him quickly hide his smirk, and she _knew_ that she wasn't imagining things. This was all some scheme, and she needed to focus in order to find out what he was planning. He leaned back in the chair and reached up to brush his shaggy blond hair back from his face as he somehow managed to keep his gaze on her. There was a maturity to his gaze that she didn't even see on Rose's face, and her daughter had always acted older than her age.

"Mrs. Weasley, are you going to answer my question?" he drawled as his lips curved into a smug smile. "Oh, sorry. I forgot that it's Ms. Granger now, isn't it?"

He somehow made the casual remark sound lurid. No, lurid wasn't the appropriate adjective. She couldn't think of the right one, which was frustrating. He tilted his head slightly and dropped his gaze down to her breasts, staring openly as she felt heat spreading across her cheeks at his sheer audacity. She tried to focus but it was impossible.

She had forgotten his question.


End file.
